I Drink the Coffee For You
by CanaanAlphardForever
Summary: [58] Ymir has a massive crush on the cute blonde girl working at a coffee shop. Maybe the cute blonde girl feels the same. Coffee shop AU. One-shot. Yumikuri.


It was_ November 26__th_ and they were already starting to play those crappy Christmas tunes that were dug up from the grave. Ymir hated them. She lifted her eyes to glare at a nearby speaker, wishing that her very stare had the ability to set the object on fire. It didn't. The jingle continued, people wept. Despite the awful music, Ymir refused to leave. In fact, she came here every day.

_Freedom Café._

If it wasn't for the adorable blonde that manned a cash register and knew how to work the damn coffee machines, then Ymir would have never set foot inside the store. The coffee was god awful and the people that came here were usually obnoxious. _Straight men,_ Ymir thought in distaste, remembering the one instance when a beefy, over-confident blonde male entered through the door, set his sights on the small blonde at the counter and almost squirted on the spot. He had been rejected—instantly. Though he had taken the 'no thank you' for what it was, and hadn't pressed the issue, he had still dropped by a few times afterwards. Ymir hated him. She would glare each time.

_Even though I do the same thing, 'cept I've been doing it longer. I'm such a fucking creep._

But the blonde was so goddamn cute and who would really blame her?

Ymir sighed wistfully and sidled down lower in her seat, eyes returning to the coffee in her hand. _Fucking disgusting._ No matter how many times she asked for more sugar, it always seemed to taste bitter. It always had a strange sour taste to it, and Ymir could never take more than two or three sips. _What I do for a goddamn crush,_ she grumbled internally. She had just hit her third sip, so she placed the cup down on the dirty table and sighed for the what, fifth? Sixth time? She had lost count. One could sigh a lot in an hour. She couldn't believe that she had actually been sitting in that terrible plastic chair, her long legs stuffed underneath the short table and cramping up because of it, listening to every kind of Christmas song in existence, for such a long time.

_It isn't even Christmas yet, Jesus Christ._

"Excuse me, do you need anything else or are you okay?"

Ymir's head shot up, eyes steadily widening. Standing before her at only 4'9", was the cute blonde girl that Ymir was undeniably infatuated with. Almost swallowing her tongue, Ymir nodded hurriedly. She could feel a blush creep up her neck as crystal blue eyes scanned her face in concern. Ymir's eyes darted downwards from the blonde's face to her neck, and then lower. _Holy shit I can see her cleavage._

"You come here every day," the girl said, smiling softly. She lifted a hand to brush a lock of _perfect, golden-as-the-sun-as-if-kissed-by-god _hair behind a small, pink, delicate ear. Ymir wished that she was that ear, and she watched the blonde's tiny hand as it dropped down to grip at the tray in her arms. "You must really love the coffee."

"Y-yup!" Ymir tried to even her breathing, but this was the closest she had ever been to the blonde. She even _sounded_ cuter up close. Ymir had never had the nerve to actually go up to her, and she often ordered coffee from either of the other two servers. Never the blonde. The blonde was sacred, to be watched from a far, to be mentally spoken to and flirted with—Ymir hated that for the first time in her life, she wasn't able to open her goddamn big mouth and make a fool of herself for the hell of it.

The cute blonde smiled, as if she could tell that Ymir's mind was in tatters. Maybe it was the fact that even _she_ was aware of how terrible their coffee was. Ymir couldn't tell which.

"Do you live or work near here?"

_Oh my fuck, why is she talking to me?_ Ymir began to sweat. _I mean, praise the tits because fuck she sounds so cute and I can actually see a little bit of green in her eyes. She's so much smaller too. Holy fuck. I can only imagine how soft she must be. But why is she talking to me? Did she notice me stalking her every day? Staring? Is it the fucking glasses?_

Ymir cleared her throat and nervously adjusted the thick glasses perched atop her nose—she had lost her contact lenses, and didn't really have the funds to buy more, _yet again, _since she was wasting all of her money on the terrible coffee just to eye bang the hot server. "No," she eventually answered, thankful that her voice was even and calm, and not shaky.

Despite being a very gay twenty-three year old woman, sometimes Ymir could look and sound like a very tall hormonal fifteen year old boy. It fucking sucked and Ymir blamed her glasses.

The blonde inclined her head, as if confused. More than likely she was wondering why this idiot wondered into the store every morning and every afternoon. For the coffee? Doubtful.

"Oh, well… I'm sorry for my curiosity. We're closing in five minutes," she shrugged lightly as if in apology. "That's what I came over to tell you."

Ymir quickly lifted her wrist to glance at the time, horrified to find that yes, it was _fifty-seven minutes past five._

"Oh shit," she exclaimed more loudly than she had intended. She blushed lightly when the blonde giggled at her outburst.

"Somewhere to be?"

Ymir turned to toss her laptop and books into her bag, and stood from the chair. She was about to respond curtly when she turned, but paused when she realized how _extreme_ their height difference was. The girl seemed just as surprised, and even startled back a step. They were standing _so close._ Ymir must have looked ready to pounce or something.

"Whoa you really are short," she blurted like the dumb idiot she was.

The blonde's brows furrowed. "You're like a beast."

Now Ymir's brows reacted, one cocking high. "Thanks," she said lightly, torn between glaring and laughing outright. She still wasn't sure why blondie was still talking to her—not that she was complaining.

"Krista, kick the last customer out already!" a man yelled from the counter. He had a two-toned undercut hairstyle and his speech left Ymir assuming that he was more of an idiot than he looked. Another man, this one dotted with freckles, black hair brushed neatly, quickly took the other man by the arm and dragged him off somewhere.

"Sorry!" the blonde, name now revealed as Krista, yelled back quickly. "And don't hurt Jean too much this time Marco!"

"He won't!" Jean yelled back, laughing. "He loves me too much." He then howled in pain, and Krista giggled into her hand as she turned back to Ymir.

"So I really need to close and lock up."

Ymir had been so caught up in staring at Krista's face while the blonde giggled that she nearly dropped her laptop bag when blue eyes turned back to look at her. "R-right, fuck. Sorry." She threw the strap of the bag over her shoulder, turned quickly on her heel and then hurried out of the door. As the door closed behind her with a familiar jingle, Ymir could have sworn that she heard someone call after her, but decided against turning back and looking like even more of a creep, and hurried across the street.

Just her luck—clouds had appeared from Satan's asshole or something, and now it looked like it would very much rain. She lived fourty-five minutes away. Since she was still ass poor, Ymir hadn't been able to get a car. Or a bike. Or even a fucking bicycle because she left it outside for _one night_ and it was swallowed whole by the earth. Or stolen. It was probably stolen, and Ymir's trust in the outside of her flat had been greatly broken. So now she had to hurry back home on foot, glancing up at the blackened, angry sky as thunder lapped down from the heavens. Eventually it did rain and lo and behold, Ymir had not brought an umbrella with her. She didn't even have a coat or jacket on her—only a pair of old grey jeans, a white button-up shirt covered by a black pullover and her dumb beanie that sagged at the back, as if the thing itself would enhance her appearance.

Rain began to pelt the roads and Ymir had no choice but to quickly duck under a nearby overhead roof. She paused her grumbling when she smelt the amazing aroma of coffee, realizing that it had been a while since she had actually drank coffee that did not make her cry. So with the realization that while it rained into the flood, she would be stuck there, at least until it let up.

Ymir entered the coffee shop she had stumbled upon and made her way to the counter. There were only two more people in front of her, the line wasn't long, and she silently thanked the universe. When she finally made it to the counter, her mood soured at seeing a familiar face.

"Well slap me twice and call me stupid."

"If you insist," Ymir spat. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The man in front of her, Eren Jaeger or _that-idiot-that-can-never-keep-his-fucking-mouth-shut,_ grinned in amusement and leaned over the counter. "As you can see, Ymir, I work here."

"Daddy no longer paying for your studies?"

Eren straightened and shrugged. "Armin and I want to sail to Sina, and my dad won't pay for the trip, so we have to work."

"Ugh, does that mean the smartass is here?"

"Glad to see you too, Ymir," Armin commented. He leaned around Eren and lightly poked the young man's hip. "The boss will yell at you for keeping the customer."

Eren grumbled lightly and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. So what'll it be, freckles?"

Ymir glared as she relayed her order, making sure to be extra picky just to be a bitch. Eren had half a mind to mess with her order when he went off to do it, but Armin slapped his hand quickly and warned him that the boss wouldn't forgive him again. However, when he handed the large cup over, he had written "_tall, freckled dyke"_ on the front of it, all smiles and cheer as Ymir took it from him.

"You're just stating the obvious, idiot," she told him. But she give him a tip as she left, feeling strangely better after having seen him and Armin—they had gone to school together, and though she had picked on Armin for looking like a girl, they had somehow become civil friends. It was Eren that had outed her in the beginning, too. If he hadn't, she'd have probably stayed in that closet so passionately that by the time she came out she would have had a degree in fashion.

It was still raining heavily when she stepped out of the shop. Warm, coffee-lidded air changed to moist, cool wind. Ymir sighed lightly as a breeze swept across her lean body, and was glad for the warm cup in her hand. The wind was unpleasant—her clothes were still soaked.

Hordes of people rushed around, all either crossing the street in a panic, ducking under any covering they could, or getting into their cars. There was a small group already growing around Ymir, and she shuffled off to the edge as far as she could to get away from them—wet human was never a great thing to stand and endure. Especially the men.

"What is life?" Ymir muttered to herself softly, finally sipping on her new coffee and sighing like she had just licked the core of heaven.

"It's great coffee, apparently," someone voiced beside her. Ymir stiffened. She knew that voice. "So you cheat on Freedom coffee with the Scouts? I'd say I'm a little hurt."

Ymir glanced to her right, to where Krista had apparently materialized, and swallowed the coffee that was in her mouth. "I'm a coffee whore," she blurted.

Krista was busy wringing water from her long, blonde hair. It had really come down hard and apparently she had been in the middle of it. "I wouldn't blame you. Freedom's coffee is awful. I'm surprised we still sell coffee at all."

_So why do you work there?_ Ymir silently drank at her coffee again, eyes sliding to the side every so often as Krista attempted to squeeze every bit of liquid from her clothes. Eventually she just sighed in defeat and removed her soggy jacket. Water had seeped through despite the thickness of the jacket itself, and Krista crossed her arms over her chest in embarrassment—it was see-through now, and Ymir had totally seen her pink bra.

Clearing her throat and blushing, Krista stepped closer to Ymir for warmth and inclined her head to the right. "So it's raining."

Ymir rolled her eyes. "What? I had no idea. Here I was thinking it was sunny. Thanks for informing me."

Krista giggled. "You're more talkative now than you were at Freedom, huh? What's your name, by the way?"

"Why do you care?" Okay, that hadn't been meant to actually come out as words. Ymir was supposed to _think _it, but had said it instead. She blushed furiously in anger at herself and wished that Krista hadn't decided to seek shelter _here_ out of all places.

Krista shrugged. "I think you're cute, and I generally like to know the name of cuties like you."

Ymir choked on her coffee. "Wh-what?"

"Your name? If you don't tell me I'm just going to start calling you Bertha."

"You think I'm cute?"

"I do, Bertha. You have nice freckles."

Ymir's head tilted back as she laughed. _Is she fucking with me right now_? "You're really funny."

"I try. Are you funny, Bertha?"

"Stop calling me Bertha, Jesus."

"I have nothing else to call you by." The blonde was now grinning wickedly, as if her entire life had been given meaning just by this one, short encounter. Her shoulders shook lightly as she laughed to herself, and Ymir felt a new sensation fill her.

_She's so adorable,_ Ymir thought.

"It's Ymir," she finally said.

"Hi Ymir, I'm Krista." The blonde held her hand out and Ymir hesitantly took it. She was shocked at how warm and small it was, and looked down at their hands just as Krista decided to suddenly transform a handshake into an intimate touch. She flattened their fingers together, eyes shining in wonder. "Your fingers are so long," she almost cooed, cheeks flushing.

Ymir quickly pulled her hand away and then took her glasses off of her face. She couldn't see through them anyway, and it was annoying looking over them. After stuffing them into her pocket, she felt Krista's eyes on her and swallowed. "What?"

"You look so h-handsome without glasses."

Was she stuttering? "Wasn't I cute just a moment ago?"

Krista nodded dumbly. "Nerdy with the glasses, badass without them." It was as if she did this so often that she felt no embarrassment or nervousness at flirting with a complete stranger. Wait… flirting?

Ymir's heart was thundering. "Are you hitting on me?"

Krista threw her hands up, lips parting to release a pained sound. "Oh my god, is _that_ what I'm doing? I had absolutely no idea. Calling a stranger cute is just a normal thing, right? Wow, thanks for informing me." She had such a naughty grin that Ymir, for a second, almost leaned over to pinch her cheeks to get rid of it. Instead she blushed, rolled her eyes and looked away.

"For being short you sure have a lot of sarcasm."

"We have to compensate somehow. So what, is my gaydar insanely off or could I maybe get your number?"

Yet again Ymir choked on her coffee. She recovered quickly but did not turn to the blonde, and focused on swallowing every bit of coffee until her lips hit air and she had to lower her arm. Krista watched her, far more confident than Ymir thought she would be.

"Why would… are you… but…" Ymir swallowed.

"Hmmm, let me say this." Krista leaned in until their arms were touching. "You visit the store every day for seven months. You absolutely hate the coffee, but you order a cup every single time. You never order from me, but you stare at me for the entire fourty minutes you're there. You never realize that I notice, though. Plus, your gay resonates with my gay and I've been hella interested since the moment I saw your freckles."

_Thank god I'm easily prone to freckles. Thanks dad._

"Fuck, you noticed that?"

"I may be blonde but I'm not stupid."

Ymir laughed. Though the conversation had developed in a way she hadn't expected, she was steadily feeling more and more herself. It helped to have the glasses off—without hiding her eyes, she was forced to wear herself like a mask and flaunt it. Part of having the glasses, all clunky as they were, was to ward off some of the attention she often received. So maybe she had been losing her contacts deliberately. Now she definitely needed to get new ones.

"So you want my number?" she asked, turning to grin. Krista was taken aback by the sudden confidence, but she nodded slowly and then watched as Ymir found a pen from her bag and messily scribbled what appeared to be numbers on the empty coffee cup. After it was written down, she sheathed her pen and then held the cup out. "Here you go."

Krista took it, deliberately brushing her fingers against Ymir's. They were so long, and Krista shivered at the thought of just how _far_ they could possibly go in… _places._ "Th-thanks." She looked down at the cup, proud and satisfied, when she spotted another set of scribbles. Lifting it to her face, Krista laughed. "Tall, freckled dyke?"

Ymir flushed. "That was… it was Eren, that idiot. He's a friend from school and the fucker works here now." She threw a thumb over her shoulder. "He wrote it."

Krista bit her lip, her tide of laughter subsided. "Well I'm glad. At least now I know what to scream tonight if I forget your name." Her eyebrows wiggled not-so-subtly and Ymir's eyes widened.

"Are you always this frisky?"

Krista shook her head, relieved that her invitation hadn't been met with shock or rejection—there wasn't an acceptance yet, but she'd get there. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she desperately wanted to give this Ymir a ride, and count the freckles on her backside. Maybe even cook breakfast for her in the morning, and kiss her on the nose.

Ymir looked around them, almost as if she was about to commit a crime and wanted to make sure that no one would notice. She nodded once to herself in satisfaction, probably deciding that it was clear, and then leaned all the way down to press her lips to Krista's in a kiss that was quick, warm and over way too soon. When she pulled away she was blushing but smirking.

"So your place or mine?" she asked.

Krista pressed her face into her hands, sure that steam would rise from her burning skin. Sure, she could make sexy jokes and outright ask for sex, but that kiss had been… it had been so… so… _romantic _and perfect and it set way more than Krista's libido on fire. Now her heart was racing, and for the last time she tried to deny the fact that she was completely infatuated and maybe even a little in love with this tall idiot that called herself Ymir. It had happened so suddenly, and when her feelings had become too much, she had decided to finally talk to the brunette—also, Jean had practically shoved her towards Ymir while ordering her to tell the customer to leave. He totally knew about her obsession, and Krista mentally noted it down to thank him later.

"I, um… I…"

"So you make a sexual joke without stuttering, but turn into a mess when I kiss you?" Ymir wished that she still had some coffee to sip on, because that would have totally made her look more badass—despite the wet hair sticking to her face and the stupid blush still on her face.

"B-because!" Krista exclaimed, face still aflame. "Th-that… a kiss like that is different!"

Ymir felt her heart stutter. "So what do you want to do?"

Krista swallowed. "Well, I don't really know you…" but she stepped even closer, body now pressed to the side of Ymir's. She found Ymir's hand and nervously took it into her own. To her delight, Ymir intertwined their fingers and pulled her in closer.

"You're shivering," Ymir observed softly. She was blushing, Krista realized it when she looked upwards after being pressed to the brunette's chest. It was adorable.

"Thank you. I didn't realize that I was cold."

Ymir snorted ungracefully and then shrugged. "It's the least I can do after kissing you so suddenly."

Krista snuggled into her. "Hey, you smell really nice. Better than I imagined."

"You imagined how I would smell?"

She nodded. "I'd lie in bed and wonder how it would feel to be in your arms. I've had this massive crush on you since day one."

Ymir went silent, and then after a while she leaned down again, slowly enough that Krista could stop her should she want to, and then eventually paused just before their lips would touch. Breathing now haggard, she squeezed Krista's hand and inhaled sharply. "Can I kiss you?"

"Y-yeah, go for it." Krista leaned up when it happened. Warmth spread through her at the touch of Ymir's lips, and even though she was now making out with a complete stranger while it rained heavily around them, nothing felt strange. She felt at home, like this was her place. Maybe she was reading far too into it, or being way too optimistic, but the way Ymir's lips brushed against her own, the way her tongue eventually ventured into the story to gently trace her bottom lip, felt all too real and _raw_. Krista wasn't sure if she would ever let Ymir go, and when she felt Ymir's tongue brush against her own, she collapsed completely against the brunette, breathing heavily.

"Are you alive?" Ymir asked, panting and nervous. Her brown eyes, probably often shining with scorn more than anything, were soft now, like Ymir might convey her worry with her gaze only. Krista's chest warmed and she smiled.

"For the first time in my life I really feel alive."

Ymir lifted a hand to touch Krista's forehead. "Hm, you don't have a fever. Where do you live? I think you need to get out of these wet clothes."

Krista almost swooned. "You're so kind."

"Ha, no I'm not. The moment you're dry and toasty warm, you owe me an entire night's worth of making out."

Krista lifted a brow. "Are you serious?"

Ymir frowned. "Of course I am. So where do you live? The rain is finally calming down."

Krista giggled softly, deciding that she didn't mind. "Not far from here. I have a car, so we don't have to walk." She peeled herself off of Ymir and then pulled her car keys from her pocket.

"If you had a car, why did you come here?"

Krista sent the brunette a wink. "I saw you and decided to try my luck. So are you going to follow me or not?"

Ymir grinned rakishly, already thinking up the many things she could use to get favours from the blonde. She followed the blonde to a nearby car, mind still spinning with dastardly plans.

Seriously, why had she been so damn nervous to begin with?


End file.
